


one night

by Irrwisch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x06 coda, Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues (Supernatural), Castiel works at the Gas'n'Sip, Coda, Dean and Sam are only mentioned, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Pre-Episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrwisch/pseuds/Irrwisch
Summary: “You can’t stay.”He knew he was useless the way he was now. But he could learn. He could adapt. He could’ve stayed behind and helped them with research from afar. He would’ve only taken a very small place in the bunker; he wouldn’t even have needed a room to himself. A blanket would’ve been enough. He could’ve slept under the war table. But he never got the chance to say any of that. Dean just shoved some small change into his hand, a used burner phone and pushed him out the door. It had hurt that Sam didn’t come to say goodbye.Dean would’ve allowed him to stay if he’d been an angel.A night shift at the Gas'n'Sip.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	one night

He really didn’t like cleaning the bathrooms.

He did understand how uncomfortable urinating was and yes, he’d much prefer it if it didn’t need to happen, but it couldn’t be so difficult to hit the bowl at least, right? After all, they all had a lifetime of training and if _he_ was able to hit, they should be able to do so too, right?

Castiel sighed and looked around. It smelled horridly but there was little he could do about it. Nora said it was embedded into the walls at this point. Apparently that was just how gas station bathrooms smelled. He didn’t like it. He hated urinating, but he couldn’t get around it.

At least it was just pee he had to clean up. There were no dark stains and he was glad for it. Stains were terrible and he didn’t understand the people that left those behind. How did they use the toilet in their own home? Did it look the same? Did they clean it up themselves or was somebody doing it for them? He started mopping.

Occasionally, he’d find used needles. When he asked Nora about it she had scoffed.

 _“Junkies,”_ she had said.

Castiel hadn’t known what junkies were, so he asked. She laughed and looked at him like one would look at a cute dog. _“You’re so innocent,”_ she had said.

The needles were always empty and when he sniffed them, he could smell nothing. He wondered if he would find out more in the library. Dean would know what junkies were but Castiel couldn’t ask him.

Dean would probably know so many things.

Dean would understand these weird human greeting rituals.

Dean would know when smiling was appropriate and when it became awkward.

Dean would’ve probably found a better job than this.

Dean wouldn’t even be here.

Castiel looked at the ground. Some of the tiles were cracked. He’d never really seen the bathrooms in the bunker. He hadn’t looked at the tiles. He wondered what colour they would be. If he just knew how to fix them, he would do it. Nora would be grateful for that, wouldn’t she?

Castiel wondered if they were friends.

Nora talked to him and she was nice, but she was nice to everybody. Sometimes he wanted to tell her about Dean. About Sam. But he couldn’t. She wouldn’t like them, right? Or maybe she would think Dean did the right thing.

He couldn’t risk that.

She’d never asked where he came from. He was glad for it because he wouldn’t have known how to answer her. A place far, far away. A place that no longer belonged to him. He wondered if the angels were still hunting him. He wondered what they would do when they found him. Would they kill him on the spot? Would they torture him first? What would they do when they realised he had no answers for them? Would they believe him when he’d tell them that Metatron tricked him as well?

He mopped a little harder. This spot was stubborn.

They wouldn’t believe him.

They’d kill him on the spot and he’d be forgotten.

_Here lies Steve Smith, alone and forgotten._

Would Dean ever know? Would Dean even care?

Castiel leaned on the handle. It was an accident that he stared down the toilet. Somebody forgot to flush.

_“You can’t stay.”_

He knew he was useless the way he was now. But he could learn. He could adapt. He could’ve stayed behind and helped them with research from afar. He would’ve only taken a very small place in the bunker; he wouldn’t even have needed a room to himself. A blanket would’ve been enough. He could’ve slept under the war table. But he never got the chance to say any of that. Dean just shoved some small change into his hand, a used burner phone and pushed him out the door. It had hurt that Sam didn’t come to say goodbye.

Dean would’ve allowed him to stay if he’d been an angel.

He heard ruckus in the store. It was nine pm, so he guessed some people wanted to buy alcohol before heading to a party. He wondered what it was like, being at a party. They always laughed. Maybe he should consult the TV. It always seemed to have answer for life’s pressing question.

He put the mop aside and headed to the front of the store.

Castiel was right: it was a group of loud teenagers. All of them were holding several bottles and a few already seemed to be intoxicated. Upon seeing him, they piled their bottles on the counter and pointed outside: “Pump Five.”

Castiel nodded and put it into the registry. He had learned that people didn’t like it if he was too slow. Customers had complained to Nora before and he’d been so embarrassed. She had told him _“not to sweat it”_ but he hadn’t known what that meant. He never used to sweat before. It was disgusting.

He scanned the bottles and told them their total. They all threw some change in his hands and he counted it carefully. He didn’t want to make a mistake and get Nora in trouble. They were getting impatient. He gave them back their change, roughly about fifty cents. They guy shook his head and told him to keep it. Castiel smiled and told him thank you.

They left and Castiel watched as they drove away. Chances were he’d never see them again.

Their car was red.

He wondered what Dean thought of red cars.

He went back to the bathroom. He kept mopping. He’d never get the room clean but he was determined to try. Nora was always relieved when somebody cleaned the bathroom. If he got it as clean as humanly possible, she might even be proud of him.

He didn’t remember the last time someone was proud of him.

After a while, he gave up. It was as clean as he could make it. It would never be clean; and he’d never be whole again. But he tried. He tried _so hard_ and he still failed. He wished he could do one thing right. He wished that someone

_Dean_

would tell him _“I’m proud of you, Castiel.”_

Dreams were a wonderful thing but it seemed that for angels, dreams were something terrible.

There was a crack in the mirror. He hated looking at himself.

He hated seeing his own empty eyes staring back at him. He hated the angels standing behind him, pointing fingers.

_“Why have you killed us, Castiel?”_

His cheeks were hollow.

He bought himself a burrito. There was no microwave at the store, so he ate it cold. It’s the only thing he’s eaten since he started working here. It reminded him of the bunker. It was food Dean had gotten him.

It was after twelve now and it was dark. He had turned off the TV and now there was just quiet music playing. He didn’t know if it was a radio station or not.

He had stocked the shelves a bit and tided the store. He wished he had someone to talk to. There were two numbers in his phone: Dean’s and Nora’s.

He had wondered why Sam’s number wasn’t in it.

But Sam probably hated him. He just didn’t understand why. Sam forgave so easily.

Castiel wondered what he could do to make it right.

But he had nothing to offer.

Everything useful about him had been his angelic powers and they were gone.

He wasn’t hungry anymore.

He threw the half-eaten burrito in the trash. He would regret it later.

But he deserved the pain.

You’re pretty, the man in the suit said. He was buying condoms.

Castiel didn’t respond.

I’ll give you fifty bucks if you let me fuck you, the man with the condoms said. They were small.

Castiel heard the proposal and he thought about it. He could buy a pillow for fifty bucks. But he thought about April and he never wanted to do this again.

He said no and the man huffed.

You’re not worth fifty bucks, anyway, the man with the big feet said and left.

He was right. Castiel wasn’t worth anything.

He closed the cash register.

The man drove off in a small car with no backseat.

It was blue.

Somebody made a mess in the bathroom. He knew who it was. There had been a group of girls here. There was vomit all over the floor. He found a positive pregnancy test that he had sold them. The girls had all been around 17 years old. He hoped the pregnant girl was going to be alright.

Castiel got the mop and he started cleaning again.

At least the vomit hadn’t really dried yet.

He thought about the baby.

Most likely, it would die.

He wondered if he should mourn it.

It’d be easier than mourning himself.

He closed the store at five am. He’d open it again at nine am. It was roughly four hours of sleep and Nora had called him insane. He had insisted on taking these shifts. He couldn’t let anyone find his sleeping bag. What would they say?

What if they fired him?

Besides, Dean got by fine with four hours of sleep. So he could do it too. It didn’t matter that he hated his life. It didn’t matter that he barely slept at all. It didn’t matter that he had nightmares and didn’t know how to make them stop.

Dean dealt with these things too, and Dean was always fine. So Castiel could be fine too.

After all, what did it matter if he wanted to die?

Nobody would care.

The ground was hard. He wished sleeping bags had more padding. He also wished for a pillow. What was it like, sleeping with a pillow under your head?

His stomach grumbled. He could go and dig for the other half burrito in the trash but he deserved this pain. It was a reminder that this was all his fault.

Sometimes he dreamed that Dean and Sam came by. They smiled at him and called him their friend, their brother. They talked about how they missed him. Castiel was happy but then they left. They just left him here and they drove off.

Looking back after their car made him realise that it’d only ever be the two of them. He was an intruder. A festering plague and they were glad to be rid of him.

He was a fraud.

Why had they saved him?

They should’ve let him die.

At nine am, he opened the store.


End file.
